Mr. Song let out a deep sigh, clearly frustrated.
"Even if we report it to the authorities, it might make Hwangsanpa back off for a while, but the person who reports it will definitely be retaliated against. Who would dare to bell the cat?"
"…That's true."
Although Hwangsanpa is considered part of the righteous sects, it leans toward the path of tyranny. They couldn't act openly, but beating up a mere commoner was an easy task for them. Even if someone wore a mask, came in the night, and used martial arts to assault a person, there were no martial sects nearby that dared defy Hwangsanpa — no one would dare question them.
Realizing the extent of Hwangsanpa's tyranny, I quietly exhaled.
'No matter how prestigious they are, being one of the Nine Great Sects and part of the righteous faction, this is too much. Even the branch disciples of the Zhangchang Sect, which is known for its rough behavior, wouldn't go this far. What are they thinking?'
At the same time, a realization struck me — the moment to repay a favor had arrived sooner than expected. Rather than giving Mr. Song a few silver coins, driving away Hwangsanpa's interference would be a much greater act of gratitude.
Of course, directly confronting Hwangsanpa would be foolish. No matter how much internal energy I had gained from the Millennium Snow Ginseng, I still couldn't face a true peak-level martial master. I needed to use my brain to resolve this situation.
'Aha! That might work!'
A good idea came to me, and I smiled involuntarily. I said to Mr. Song,
"Well… just wait a bit. I think there will be good news within four days."
After purchasing everyday clothes from Mr. Song's fabric shop, I stepped outside. A plan to curb Hwangsanpa's excessive tyranny had already formed in my mind. It wasn't some elaborate scheme but rather an action based on experience. First, I headed into the city and bought a separate night outfit.
'Alright, let's get to work.'
I first went to a secluded area to test my internal energy. If my energy didn't support it, nothing could be done. Fortunately, there were many abandoned spots in the city, and in one of them, I inhaled the damp, moldy air and slowly raised my hand.
Crunch.
"Wow… it works."
My fingers were completely embedded into a stone wall. Three fingers had pierced it as if it were tofu. This was something no ordinary human could do, but I had simply followed my meridians and infused energy into my fingers to harden them. Just by doing that, my hand had become a formidable weapon.
And just maybe, I started to think — perhaps the internal energy I gained from the Millennium Snow Ginseng was even greater than I had thought.
Because the internal energy of Ho Baek-ryeon had merged with that of the Millennium Snow Ginseng, the harmony of Taiji (Supreme Polarity) had been achieved — meaning the energy I possessed might far surpass what the ginseng alone could have provided.
I slowly began moving my fingers and started writing letters on the stone wall. Although I was simply moving my fingers while they were embedded about three inches deep into the wall, I was still able to write smoothly.
Unfortunately, my literacy was barely enough to get by in daily life and to read beginner-level documents. I wasn't illiterate, but by the standards of an average scholar, I would be considered ignorant. Still, I could manage simple sentences, and with growing confidence, I began writing.
[Hwangsanpa is bullying and extorting innocent civilians.]
There was no metaphor, no analogy — just the plain truth written bluntly. It was such a straightforward sentence that calling it a "scheme" would be laughable, but seeing the words properly engraved into the stone made me feel satisfied.
Once I finished practicing, I decided to erase the traces. This time, I used palm force to do so.
At the Cheongryong Martial Hall, the peak martial art I had learned was the Eight Thunder Spirit Forms , along with the Thunder Shadow Sword Technique and the Thunder Shadow Step as my main skills. However, in intense battles, it's inevitable that there will be moments where you are without a weapon, so Master Jin So-cheong had also taught me a palm technique.
Its name: Thundercloud Palm .
According to Master Jin, it was the martial art that supported the fame of his own master, the hall leader of Cheongryong, known as "Three Masters" Yi Gwang. Of course, the Eight Thunder Spirit Forms were undoubtedly the strongest technique, but Yi Gwang had reached the level of mastery in spear, sword, and fist — making him a renowned grandmaster in the martial world.
My mastery of the Thundercloud Palm was only about 30% complete at best. Since my focus was mainly on swordsmanship and footwork, I hadn't deeply studied the palm technique — nor did I have the talent for it. I had merely memorized the forms and could apply them loosely, which meant I rarely used it.
Ssssss…
"Urgh…!"
I merely followed the chant of the Thundercloud Palm and gathered energy into my palm, but then a bluish light flared from my hand, and lightning crackled around my forearm. Shocked, I froze — this had never happened before, no matter how much I focused.
'Could this be… the power of the Millennium Snow Ginseng?'
Boom!
Crackle—Crash…
Moments later, I struck the stone wall with the Thundercloud Palm — and a hole large enough for a child to crawl through opened up. I was dumbfounded.
Originally, my palm technique was only strong enough to land effective hits on people or maybe cause internal injuries. But this level of destructive power was on a completely different scale. If I used this on a human, their upper body bones would be shattered — they'd be nothing but a mangled mess.
I stared blankly at the falling stone dust, then quickly snapped out of it.
'Damn! I better get out of here — fast.'
If I stayed any longer, people would start gathering because of the noise. I quickly slipped away into the shadows and vanished down a narrow alley. Luckily, there were no witnesses — I had narrowly avoided a confrontation with the guards.
'Anyway, the plan is definitely feasible. I'll begin at dawn tomorrow.'
That night, I went to bed early and slept deeply. I used it as a chance to recover from the exhaustion of wandering mountains and rivers in search of the Millennium Snow Ginseng. I even paid the innkeeper extra to get hot water and took a proper bath. It was a rare luxury — one that nearly drained the last of my money.
That night, I dreamed of my late mother.
She was smiling in the dream as she sewed clothes. It left me with a warm, happy feeling.
The next morning, I woke up about an hour before sunrise. Dressed in my night attire, I slipped quietly into the city. I carefully made my way toward the upscale houses and government buildings I had scouted the previous day.
I had one simple task:
Just carve a message into the stone walls with my fingers.
[Hwangsanpa is bullying and extorting innocent civilians.]
Crack, crumble.
Stone dust and a gritty smell rose from my fingertips. Even though my internal energy had grown strong, my fingers still felt a bit cold and numb. After carving messages on around 20 buildings, the pain in my fingers forced me to take a short break.
But my goal was to leave this message on at least 50 different stone walls. I was carving once every ten or so buildings, and I had chosen areas with heavy foot traffic and frequent patrols. If I engraved the message in 50 places, it would be impossible for people not to notice.
'Oops, guards.'
Seeing three guards on patrol, I quickly ducked into an alley to hide. Fortunately, they were part of the early morning shift and didn't seem to be skilled martial artists — they hadn't noticed me.
'Whew… I still want to carve a few more. What should I do?'
I could ambush the guards and disable them using acupoint striking — that would buy me more time.
'No, forget it. This is enough.'
In the end, I decided to stop there and vanished back into the darkness. It was better to quit while I was ahead than to leave behind too many traces.
"W-What in the world?!"
"Wh-What is this?!"
"Wang Il! Hurry and report this to Officer Wi!"
"Yes, sir…!"
A few moments later, I heard the guards yelling in confusion after discovering the messages on the stone walls.
By the time morning came, I lay on my inn bed pretending not to know a thing. Since I had rented the room for four days, the innkeeper had no reason to bother me. And so, I calmly sat and spent the morning doing some light energy cultivation.
Woooo—
I had only circulated the Great Heavenly Circuit once or twice, yet I felt as if a volcano had erupted within me — a majestic torrent of internal energy surged through my entire body, trembling with power. As the vast energy passed through my meridians, it began to burst open the fine, narrow vessels (capillaries) along the way. No exaggeration — with each full circuit, it felt as though my internal energy was stacking up layer by layer, overflowing with intensity.
'Ever since I broke through the Gate of Life and Death , all of my fine meridians have started opening up…'
This was truly extraordinary. Breaking through these tiny meridians with internal energy was essential to growing stronger, but creating new channels for Qi and blood flow was an extremely difficult task. Unless one's inner power had exceptional potential, most martial artists would spend a lifetime opening just a portion of these pathways near the major meridians.
Once the fine meridians open, the transmission speed of true energy increases significantly. Moreover, if I use internal energy to harden my body, my defense would become much stronger.
To go even further, one must reach the level I was now experiencing — having broken through the Gate of Life and Death, my internal energy surged like an unstoppable spring. I had only heard of such a state in rumors — I never imagined I would actually reach it myself. At this rate, if I continued my cultivation, my martial arts would inevitably settle into a realm of true mastery.
After completing my morning training, I stepped outside my room — only to be greeted by the innkeeper, flustered and agitated.
"Oh dear… something big has happened, sir. Please, don't leave your room today."
"What happened?"
"Some crazy person stirred up a commotion in the market — now the guards are on edge and roaming the streets like hunting dogs. If you get caught up in it, you might end up in jail. Please lock your door and stay inside. I'll bring your meals to you myself."
"A commotion, you say?"
Though I was the one responsible, I kept a straight face and feigned ignorance. The innkeeper looked around carefully to ensure no one else was listening, then spoke in a hushed voice.
"Someone wrote slander about the Hwangsanpa… and get this — the messages were engraved into stone walls!"
"Oh my… that sounds like something only a martial master could do."
Ugh, how embarrassing. But I kept my cool, and the innkeeper didn't seem suspicious of me at all.
"Well, whoever they are, they must be no ordinary martial artist… But people are thrilled about it."
"And why are they so happy?"
"Well, because what's written is all true…"
The innkeeper trailed off awkwardly, then added,
"Anyway, just stay inside!"
"Understood."
True to his word, the innkeeper personally brought me food. While sitting in my room eating raw eggs, steamed rice, and a chicken dish, I thought to myself:
'He doesn't seem interested in reporting me for a reward. It looks more like he just doesn't want to get involved in anything troublesome.'
It's possible he suspected me of being the culprit. I couldn't pinpoint a clear reason why he would, but since the inn was large and gossip spread quickly, a sharp-witted person like him might've sensed something unusual in my behavior. Still, I—
Whether I was the culprit or not, the innkeeper simply hated getting caught up in trouble. There was no guarantee he'd receive a reward for reporting me, and if the guards came storming in to investigate, it would only hurt his business.
In a way, it also reflected how little trust people had in the local authorities. Since officials often showed no concern for commoners or merchants, they were avoided and even resented.
It seemed my luck was holding up. If the innkeeper had recklessly chased a reward, things could've become very troublesome. And it appeared I was right — I saw some guards approach the inn entrance and speak to the innkeeper for a while before leaving. Most likely, the innkeeper had brushed them off, claiming he hadn't seen anyone suspicious.
I no longer felt the need to take any further action. Instead, I stayed in my room and calmly began thinking about what to do next.
'This is bound to work — Hwangsanpa will have no choice but to back off.'
Anonymous graffiti on stone walls in public marketplaces.
It wasn't something I came up with on my own. The idea came directly from one of the most vivid memories in my decades of experience — the incident known as the "Jeomchang Incident ."
In the past, the Jeomchang Sect, one of the Nine Great Sects , had branch disciples who collected excessive tribute and committed extreme abuses against local residents. The tyranny became so severe that it escalated to rape and murder of civilians — yet the incidents were covered up and went unpunished.
Then one day, posters appeared simultaneously across towns throughout Jeomchang's territory. To be precise, an anonymous person had posted them in large numbers along the streets. One of the messages read:
"Jeomchang Sect is an evil cult stealing the people's wealth."
It was the same tactic I used — just in written form.
The message eventually reached the ears of the Prince of Yunnan, who was the emperor's own brother. Enraged, he dispatched the Imperial Guards to investigate. Jeomchang tried to deny everything, but the truth came out. The sect was disbanded immediately.
The sect leader committed suicide, and the elders, unable to endure the shame, fled under cover of night. One of the Nine Great Sects had completely collapsed overnight. Though it had happened in the far southern edge of the Central Plains, it remained a major topic of discussion for years.
That event also redefined the relationship between the authorities and the martial world. Up until then, both sides had maintained a fragile non-interference pact — an unspoken truce. But the incident revealed that the government could crush even a powerful martial sect if it chose to.
Of course, what I had done was quite different from the Jeomchang Incident.
Back then, the posters were distributed simultaneously in dozens of towns, but I had only acted in one — in the most bustling district of Hwangsan. Also, I hadn't written and posted messages on paper; I engraved them into stone walls with my bare hands.
Even so, the fact that these messages were exposed to the public and unavoidable in the eyes of the authorities carried meaning on its own. It became something they couldn't simply ignore. Even the corrupt officials who took bribes from Hwangsanpa would be forced to say something.
"Hwangsanpa, don't you think you've gone far enough?"
And even that one sentence of pressure — no matter how powerful or renowned the head of Hwangsanpa was, known across the martial world as the Dragon-Slaying Divine Sword —
Even someone as powerful as the Dragon-Slaying Divine Sword , Yong Jung-il, wouldn't be able to ignore such pressure.
I confirmed that my plan had worked exactly as intended on the fourth day after setting it into motion.
"Wahhh…!"
"They're here…!"
Suddenly, a commotion rippled through the market street. When I stepped outside to see what was happening, I saw martial artists in yellow robes swaggering down the street in formation. From their clothing and insignias, I instantly recognized them — they were martial artists from Hwangsanpa, one of the Nine Great Sects.